


one foot into an early grave

by mutents



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Gen, Injury, Missions, Secret Intelligence Service | MI6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-11 20:46:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11722239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mutents/pseuds/mutents
Summary: Waverly regrets his decision to leave MI6 for U.N.C.L.E.Can one really blame him?





	one foot into an early grave

" _Take the new post,_ " they said. " _It'll be easy,_ " they said. " _It'll get you away from all of these double-oh's that are surely going to lead you into an early grave._ "

Ha bloody ha.

Waverly couldn't help but groan at the report that was currently sitting on his desk. He'd given it to Solo, Kuryakin and Teller because it was supposed to be a simple job. Solo had been complaining recently that they hadn't had a break in months. He'd been correct; they'd been going on mission after mission since Rome. Hell, the three hadn't even had a chance to see the New York headquarters yet.

Solo would certainly get a kick out of the front being a tailor shop.

So, Alexander had given them the easiest mission he had on his desk. It was a simple data retrieval - the kind that Solo could do in his sleep. Waverly had even noted that the safe was one that Solo had cracked during his more... unscrupulous years. Best of all, they didn't need the information for a good week, leaving the three agents with at the very least four days to enjoy the sunny beaches of Sydney, Australia.

But, of course, nothing ever was simple with these three.

Kuryakin had ended up with a knife wound across his upper left arm, and Napoleon had taken a bullet to the thigh. Teller had scrapped by with the lightest of wounds - she'd only had a handful of cuts on her face from when the windshield had been shot out of the car she was driving during their escape. They'd managed to retrieve the information, so the records would show that the mission was a success, but all three agents would be walking away with scars.

Alexander supposed he should be glad that they'd walked away at all.

Every bloody mission he'd sent them on had been like this. In Istanbul, Gaby had ended up with a minor concussion that had kept her from going to Belfast. Belfast had ended up with both Kuryakin and Solo getting knocked on their arses by a bomb blast, though the wounds had been strictly superficial. After Belfast was Sao Paulo, where Solo had been poisoned by a mark who'd coated her nails with the toxin. That had kept him from Bangkok, where Illya had ended up with a broken an arm from a fall. The arm had kept Kuryakin from St. John's, where Teller had driven her car into the bay and nearly drowned. When the three had met back up in Cape Town, Kuryakin had been captured an underwent several days of torture, which had acerbated his still healing arm and torn the ligaments in his shoulder. That had left him out of Nuuk, where Solo nearly lost his fingers to frostbite. Both men had been fit enough for Warsaw, but there Gaby had been bitten by several guard dogs. In theory, Sydney was supposed to be a break from all of that. It was supposed to be their rest. It was a simple mission.

Waverly should know by now that with these three agents, nothing was ever 'simple.'

"What would you like us to do, sir?" Roger asked, standing as tall as his small frame let him.

"Call them back, I suppose. Both Kuryakin and Solo are going to need time to recuperate, and we can hardly send Teller on a mission by herself. After all, she'd never agree to work with anyone else; the only other agents she trusts are the ones she works with."

"Of course, sir. From the medical reports were receiving from the hospital in Sydney, they should be able to be transferred to headquarters by the end of the week."

"Wonderful. Send a telegram to Teller, telling her they're being recalled to New York. They'll have a private plane to take them back." Waverly paused for a moment. "On second thought, give them first class tickets on a major airline. If the three of them are left alone with only a pilot on one of our planes, they're liable to be shot down over Laos."

"Right away, sir. Is there anything else I can do for you sir?"

"What time is it, Roger?"

"Nearly five, sir."

"Brilliant. Bring me a bottle of bourbon."

There was only one thing that Waverly knew for sure; not even Bond had been this bad.

**Author's Note:**

> Gratuitous reference to Bond, since he and Napoleon were both created by Ian Flemming.
> 
> So, I can't actually remember if Waverly originally worked for MI5 or MI6, but I also don't really care enough to not write this.
> 
> Not beta read, all mistakes are mine, though I do appreciate having them pointed out to me!


End file.
